Vampire Essence
by YamiKatie
Summary: Has anyone ever noticed how similar Bakura is to a vampire? Pale skin, elongated canines, a certain fascination for blood. Well, every vampire wannabe has to have a regular host to feed off. But what do you do when the host starts enjoying it?


A/N: This is a one-shot inspired by Anne Rice's "Interview with the Vampire," although still on a Yu-gi-oh theme. The idea interested me of vampires having voluntary hosts, the ones that knew what was happening to them but chose to let it happen. I wrote it while on a Brownie Pack Holiday (my mother helps run a Brownie pack, and I foolishly offered to come and help) in a rare moment of privacy. I think the American equivalent of a Brownie is a Girl Scout, by the way. I wrote this because I have noticed some similarities between Yami Bakura and vampires - pale skin, blood cravings, calling his other half 'host,' and having long canines.

Warnings: violence. Despite how it may seem at some points, this is a NON-YAOI fic.

Vampire Essence

It was half past eight in the evening and a slight, ivory-haired figure lay as if dead on the sofa. His eyelids were lowered and the prone position of his limbs suggested life had for some reason been extinguished, but get closer, approach just a little and the tell-tale rising of the chest betrays the life-spark which, while smouldering, still burns with an almost childish rebellion.

Ryou Bakura was asleep.

It was a deep slumber and, for him, relatively pleasant. Plagued not by insistent images of terror and destruction, his dreams were fleeting and vague, and nothing he would remember once he woke up.

Ryou Bakura was fast asleep.

This fact wasn't quite as clear to the tall figure who made his way strongly across the lounge, who stopped and placed two fingers to the teenager's neck to check his pulse. It should have seemed a touching gesture, one that suggested concern, worry, even love, but instead the action was performed with a methodical coldness, as if it had been performed many times before and with the same result.

Having satisfied himself that fire still burned within, however weakly, and as he moved his ear away from the chest where the dull boom of a heartbeat, sluggish and torpid, still thumped, the figure straightened and brushed himself off with a suggestion of distaste.

Moving slightly closer, but not enough so they would inadvertently touch, the standing figure expelled a single word, enunciating each syllable with cold clarity.

"Yadonushi."

A statement, uttered in a flat toneless voice, yet also a command that must be obeyed, a summons that must be answered. The figure demanded it should, having a fondness for obedience from his underlings.

Ryou slept stubbornly on, but some tiresome part of his mind heard it through the sieve that let so little through, the word piercing through soft folds of the mental blanket.

The figure standing above him as if guarding him felt his mind respond and knew he would wake, stumbling sluggishly up, even as Ryou let out a tired mumble that could mean anything and yet meant nothing.

__

Murgh.

And he put out a hand to steady himself just as the figure standing over him knew he would, for he had adjusted his position accordingly so that his face would be the first thing Ryou saw when he opened his eyes.

"Yadonushi."

There was a hint of a warning this time. The figure knew it was heard and understood, for Ryou acknowledged it instantly by heaving himself up and leaping to his feet.

"You fell asleep."

"Ye-es. Mortal habit. We do it every now and then. You know, to stay alive and all."

He saw his yami's eyes flicker crimson, just for a moment, and at once regretted the sarcastic comment. His other half viewed sarcasm as a privilege reserved only for people of his own high status.

You could always tell how the spirit of the Ring was feeling by looking at his eyes. They were generally the only part of him that hinted at emotions within; sole animation in an otherwise rigid and unfeeling corpse. Ryou knew the difference like other people knew traffic lights. Brown meant everything was okay, fine, just as it should be. Red indicated annoyance, or sometimes bloodlust, depending on the situation. And black…when you saw the purple-black flames of the Shadow Realm blazing in the Ring-spirit's eyes you got the hell out, not even stopping to grab a toothbrush.

"Well it isn't going to happen again. Not without my permissions."

"Permission…" Ryou echoed softly. "Is that all that matters to you? Making me ask for _everything?"_ His tone grew softer, taking on a persuasive note. "I shouldn't have to ask for some things."

"Cut it out," the spirit replied sharply. An edge of unease had crept into his voice. It was the first time his emotions had been revealed through the manner of his speech and Ryou saw him swallow convulsively, regaining total control of himself. A moment later he was speaking again, voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"Perhaps it was better that you rested. I have felt particularly hungry today, my host, and as it is too light to use anyone from outside you will have to sustain me for now."

Ryou smiled, the expression strangely warped, like a tired elastic band. "I look forward to it, _partner."_

His yami's tone turned sharper, satirical. "Unless I do not have your _permission_ to do so? After all, I shouldn't have to ask for some things."

"Don't be so foolish."

"Yes, then."

"Of course," Ryou returned. He sat back down on the sofa and his other half joined him; joined with him as his mouth moved to the side of his neck, white hands holding his face still and at the same time roving, exploring. Feeling the elegantly sculpted cheekbones set high in the pale face, smooth and white as marble. Meanwhile elongated canines sank precisely into his neck, clamped down as the spirit of the Ring fed voraciously.

Ryou's head was tilted back in a gesture of total, unquestioning submission, his eyes half-closed. A shudder of rapture ran like electricity through his body, electrifying and consuming him. _This is what an orgasm feels like,_ he thought suddenly.

His yami heard this thought and laughed delightedly. ((Ah, my little host, and how would you know?)) He broke off, gasping, and stroked Ryou's hair as the swooning teenager fell sideways, landing in his arms totally by accident. Of course.

((Of course.))

He licked the blood from around his mouth and watched dispassionately as his host lay semi-conscious on the sofa, eyes veiled and misty. Weak from blood-loss, Ryou let out an indistinct moan and tried to pull himself up, but his limbs were clumsy and useless and he fell back down, gripped by the temples in unfightable lethargy.

The Ring-spirit bent over and kissed him very softly, then sat back and thought how beautiful his host was, and how much he wanted to kill him.

The knife played almost sensuously over Ryou's throat.

((Shall I kill you, little landlord of mine?))

(If it pleases you.) The words were said with an obvious effort, as Ryou tried to open his eyes but found them too heavy, and they fluttered shut. The spirit of the Ring watched, and they opened again, staring around in vague confusion.

(Where am I?)

((Quiet now. You're going to go to sleep.))

(I am?)

((Yes.)) The spirit placed a white hand over the teenager's eyes, and when he took it away they were closed.

((Silly little host,)) the spirit whispered fiercely. ((And you _are._ Don't deny it.))

(I suppose I am,) Ryou answered vaguely, his tone distant and accepting.

((I _know _you are.)) Again the knife was over the teenager's throat. The spirit pressed deeper and the bloodied line appeared, like a crimson thread. Ryou made a slight wincing movement, pulling away just a little.

His yami held him still. ((Sssh, my host. This will feel strange, but don't worry. Just stay very, very still.))

The thread thickened, and Ryou's lifeblood trickled innocently down his neck, meandering into little rivers.

((Stay still, little landlord of mine. Nearly done.))

(Say that word, _partner,)_ Ryou whispered. (That one. The one I like.)

The slow, cruel smile spread almost thoughtfully over the spirit's face. ((Ah, yes, of course…_aibou.))_

And the knife sank just a little bit deeper.

……………..

A/N: re-reads story my Ra, I'm twisted. This certainly turned out a bit more dark than I first intended. Oh well. Review! I'll remind you all that this is a ONE-SHOT, so if I get a single review telling me to continue it, I will hunt that reviewer down. DOWN, you hear me?


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